


a glitch in the matrix

by wontonwriter



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Growing Up Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23229877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wontonwriter/pseuds/wontonwriter
Summary: Kaito's feet constantly pad towards the future, not knowing when to stop, turn and take a look at all the galaxies he's yet to explore.
Relationships: Momota Kaito/Oma Kokichi
Comments: 11
Kudos: 85





	1. two pinches

**Author's Note:**

> i really like this ship idk.... canon they are so toxic but like their dynamic can be interpreted in so many ways in fanon anyways please enjoy loves mwah 
> 
> this'll be a two-shot btw um hehe

Kaito was confused, to say the least. He watches as words tumble out of his sensei’s mouth, which filter through one of his ears and come out the other. It’s all a jumble—an incoherent blather that his brain can’t comprehend.

 _Heats?_ What are those? He looks down at the textbook for this class and presses his face against it, nosing along the endless columns of sentences, as if sniffing the words out of the page would allow him to understand what sensei was prattling on about.

There’s a snicker next to him. It’s so quiet that no one in the observable universe could hear it if they weren’t locked inside a dead silent room. No one but Kaito. And he knows exactly who it is.

Kokichi Ouma was looking at him, giving him a smirk that Kaito could only describe as annoying and a really hard word he can’t quite remember. Kaito would love to punch (or at least pinch) it out of his face, if it weren’t for the fact that Kaito’s grandparents have always lectured him on being a good boy and not hitting people. Kokichi was also tiny, and his best friend—who was also an omega.

Whatever that means. All he knew about them was that they were super precious, nothing like the cool and strong alpha his grandparents said he was. 

“Nishishi.” Kokichi continues to snicker behind his hand, “Having a hard time, Momota-chan?”

Kaito whispers a gruff ‘shut up’, before turning his attention back to the sensei.

He spends the rest of the lesson looking over sensei’s shoulder, imagining stars made out of chalk floating on the board. Kaito envisions himself inside a space ship, looking at them in awe while he zips past at light speed, nose pressed on the circular window which provided him a front-row view of the stars. 

….

“Grandma, what’s a heat?” He implores at the dining table. His grandpa chokes on his water and his grandma throws her arms up in surprise, before giving her husband tissues and a few rough chops to the back.

“W-what’s brought this up, sweetie?” She asks sweetly. Kaito doesn’t miss the way she stumbled over her words though, which makes him even more confused.

“We were learning about it in class today.” Kaito explains, “Sensei said that she has them.”

His Grandpa gulps down the remaining contents of his glass, before tentatively placing it back on the table. “Well grandson, I think it’s time for you to know what it _really_ means to be an alpha, beta or omega.” He coughs, signalling his wife with a hand. “Take it away sweetie.”

“What?” His wife gasps, “No way am I talking to Kaito about… All of that. You do it! You’re both males.”

“I don’t know how to explain it!” He barks, “It’s all too complicated.”

His grandma sighs, standing up from her seat. She beckons Kaito to follow her, placing a hand on his shoulder. Kaito sees her turning back to mouth something to his grandpa which has him shrinking in his seat. 

His grandma leads him into the living room and they both take a seat on the couch. Her hand never leaves his shoulder.

“Kaito, my dear.” She starts, “You are an alpha.”

“Yeah, I know!” Kaito says, “Just like dad, who’s up in space.” He grins, pointing up at the night sky.

His grandma nods, a sombre look on her face.

“Being an alpha is really cool, right?” She asks. Kaito nods eagerly, bouncing in his seat.

“It’s so cool! I can’t wait to grow up so I can get strong enough to become an astronaut.” His grandma says that his dad turned into a star after he died. Every night, he looks up at the sky, trying to find a star that outshines the rest—that’d probably be him. When he’s old enough, he’ll make a spaceship and fly himself to it so he can say hi to his dad.

“Alpha’s are very ambitious. You fit into that role perfectly.” His grandma’s face brightens. He laughs as she ruffles his unkempt bed of purple hair.

“You’ll grow up strong, just like your dad.” She says, “You’ll also find an omega that you’ll learn to love.”

“Love?” Kaito cocks his head to the side, “Like, marriage love? Like mom and dad?”

“Just like mom and dad, Kaito.” She nods, “An alpha takes care of their omega and the omega takes care of their alpha.” She explains.

“When they marry and an omega has their heat, alphas will need to…” She looks away, trying to find the right way to phrase ‘have sex with them and relive their pain with a knot’ for a twelve-year-old. “… _Help_ them out.”

“Like, make them feel better? Sensei says that heats hurt.”

“Yes, exactly.” She says. “An omega will only need to experience their first heat before they can be given medicine so that they won’t need to feel too much pain for their other heats.”

Kokichi suddenly crosses his mind—his grandma saying ‘omegas’ and ‘heats’ in the same sentence fills him with worry for his best friend.

“Will Kokichi have heats and get hurt too?” He asks with a frown.

“Yes, unfortunately.” She says, “But only for one time. I’m sure Kokichi’s parents will give him medicine to numb the pain after his first.”

“Does that mean I’ll have to help him out with his first heat?”

His grandma stiffens and sits up straight, unmoving like a rocket ship preparing for take-off.

“N-no…” She recomposes herself, placing a hand on her chest. “No need to help him out, Kaito. His parents will do that for you.” 

Kaito nods, slowly processing his _grandma’s_ watered-down explanation of a heat.

He goes to sleep that night dreaming about stars. One wears a hat like his friend Shuichi. One plays the piano like his other friend Kaede. One has pigtails like Maki, the pretty girl who lives a few houses down from him. The tiniest out of the four emits a light that bathes the inside of his spaceship in a beautiful shade of purple.

….

Kaito goes into junior high a head taller than he was in elementary school. It was easy to find Kokichi standing alone in between the hordes of new students. His big, purple eyes look lost as they try to spot anyone he knows.

“Kokichi?” Kaito says. The smaller jumps, before looking up to meet a familiar face.

“Momota-chan!” He cheers, pulling Kaito down for a quick hug. Kaito barely has time to regain his composure before he sees Kokichi looking him up and down. He gulps. The atmosphere around him suddenly gets very stuffy.

“Hmm…” Kokichi puts his hands on his hips, “You’ve grown taller.”

“Obviously.” Kaito snorts to play it cool, “I’m an alpha.” He says. He mirrors Kokichi’s posture and waves a hand between their heads, emphasising their height difference.

“Was that supposed to be a jab?” Kokichi says, “So what if I’m short, I’m cute!” He says, holding up two peace signs against his eyes.

Kaito rolls his eyes, but the heat rising in his cheeks betray his indifference to Kokichi’s actions.

Whether or not Kokichi notices it doesn’t matter because he sees Shuichi walking up to them. He turns Kokichi around to notify him of their other friend’s arrival—definitely not because he didn’t want those prying eyes on him anymore.

_Since when did they get so purple? Have they always glowed that brightly?_

Countless questions about Kokichi’s eyes burrow themselves into Kaito’s mind like worms, but he wills them all to dissipate as he goes to pat Shuichi on the back, cheerfully greeting his friend and giving a speech on how the next three years are going to be the best time of their lives.

Kokichi tells him to save the speeches for high school. Kaito tells him to shut up. Shuichi listens to them bickering while they walk into the building.

….

 _Best time of their lives_ , Kaito said. _Times gonna fly in a blink of an eye_ , he whooped.

He slumps against his desk, frown etched on his face as he watches the wall clock tick at an agonizingly slow pace. Like his old sensei, his new one prattles on about the topic for this special Health class, which Kaito now knows is officially titled ‘ABO: The Introduction to Your Secondary Gender’.

With his limited knowledge, he thinks he was able to scrape by the test sensei so abruptly shoved in their faces—on their first day too! 

_Who have knots? Alphas. Who have heats? Omegas. Betas are the peacekeepers if the inevitable clash between biology interferes with real life._ Those questions were easy to answer—he didn’t exactly know what ‘knots’ were or why omegas and alphas would ‘clash’ (grandma said they should love each other, as that’s how they evolved), but he knew how to answer them nonetheless.

He looks over to Kokichi, who was drawing something on the corner of his notebook. It doesn’t take him much effort to look over the Kokichi’s shoulder—the gaps between their desks were tiny and Kaito’s body seemed to grow vertically by the day—and finds him busying away on a doodle of a teddy bear. It would’ve been 100% cute, had Kokichi not coloured half of the bear in a sinister black, with a red lightning bolt for an eye. 

He grimaces, leaning back on his chair and choosing to turn his attention back to the lesson, as boring as it was. Kaito hates scary things—ghosts and anything paranormal freaked the stuffing out of him. Kokichi on the other hand had some sort of morbid curiosity for it. Why, Kaito might never know.

“… _To rephrase it for you younglings, a ‘knot’ is basically a balloon_ …” And Kaito shuts off, fuel tank emptied and engine burned out as his eyes flutter shut.

Kaito gets rudely shaken awake by the time the bell rings for lunch. His vision is blurry, objects distorted as he groggily sits back up. He makes out a figure standing next to him. He thinks he sees purple. A small hand waves in front of him, all creamy and soft with a line that smoothly ran across the milky expanse of skin.

“MOMOTA-CHAN!” A scream. Kaito hisses, hurrying to press a palm against his battered ear. He snaps his head towards his attacker, scowling when he sees Kokichi pulling that annoying smirk, so pinchable it hurts him when he resists raising his hand to do just that.

“Momota-chan, good afternoon!” He says cheerfully, “Time for lunch!”

“Would it kill you if you _didn’t_ ruin my hearing every time you wake me up?” Kaito asks, rubbing the inside of his ear with his finger.

“Nope!” Kokichi exclaims, “No can do! I have to scream or Momota-chan won’t wake up at all!”

In between Kokichi’s rambling and his mind still waking up, Kaito sees Kokichi’s face. Like, _fully_ sees it. Without having to tilt his head up or anything. He’s sitting on a chair and Kokichi’s standing up, both of his legs fully vertical and sticking up from the floor.

He suddenly bolts upright, sending Kokichi stumbling back in shock. He hits a desk, and it wobbles upon impact. Kaito pouts, trying to work out why _that_ specific thought sprung up in his head. It causes a ruckus in his brain, shaking cogs, pulling wires and hitting control panels awake to try and decipher this odd conundrum.

“Why are you still so short?” He blurts out. Kokichi’s stunned face changes into a look of irritation in a matter of seconds and he flicks Kaito on the chest.

“If you stayed awake during this _very_ important lesson…” Kokichi says behind gritted teeth, “You would’ve known that omegas grow far slower than alphas.” There’s colour dusting his pale face for some reason, coating his cheeks and nose in red. Kaito thinks he looks a little like Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer.

“Is that it?”

“Yes.” Kokichi says with a nod.

“Oh.” Kaito says dumbly, scratching his head.

“Why’d you ask?”

“Dunno.” Kaito shrugs, “It just sprung up in my brain.”

“Aww!” Kokichi coos, “Does Momota-chan think I’m cute?” He reaches up to poke Kaito’s cheek. The taller swats his finger away, scowling.

“Shut up.”

….

It all starts a week after Kokichi’s 13th birthday.

His mom is there on the doorstep with a table cloth over her shoulder. It’s normal, if not for the weird look on her face and the smell that wafts out from behind her. It’s sweet like the cookies his grandma bakes and sticks to his nose. It makes his stomach do somersaults, like the times when he’d steal one too many confectionaries from the cookie jar and come down with a stomach ache.

“K-Kaito?” She says. “W-why are you here?”

 _She’s somersaulting too_ , Kaito thinks. _Just on her words, though._

“Hi Ms. Ouma!” He waves, giving her a bright smile. She returns it with unmatched fervour, nothing like her usual smile that bared a striking resemblance to Kokichi’s, just homier and less pinchable. Kaito cocks his head to side, confusion written all over his face.

“I came for Kokichi. Is he here?” Kaito gestures towards his toy rocket, the one they play with in his backyard. They take turns, alternating between being the spaceman who got to carry it and monster who chases said spaceman so it was fair. 

Kokichi’s mom gives him a sad smile, shaking her head slightly. 

“He’s sick today, sweetie.” She says, “Try coming around tomorrow, maybe?”

Kaito nods, even if his face falls. Ms. Ouma seems to notice, since she makes the effort to reach out and ruffle Kaito’s hair. He bids her farewell, walking back to his house Kokichi-less and a little crestfallen, with the smell of cookies lingering around him. 

Kaito tries the day after, only to get sent back home Kokichi-less once again.

It goes like this until Tuesday, where Kaito’s rising suspicions in his mind start to kindle into life as _preposterous_ theories when Kokichi’s mom opens the door after school once again with the same sweet smell infiltrating his nostrils. She looks exhausted, with another table cloth thrown over her shoulder.

Kokichi’s mom regretfully says goodbye after informing Kaito on his best friend’s whereabouts (still glued to his bed and ‘sweating out bullets’, apparently) and slams the door shut on Kaito’s face. He spends a good five minutes locked in place with his hand feeling at the growing stubble on his chin, trying to slot puzzle pieces together to form an answer as to why Kokichi’s suddenly gone MIA for the past four days.

 _Click._ He gasps, jumping past the small flight of stairs, landing on the sidewalk with a _thud_. He sprints like a hyena towards Shuichi’s house, gives no time to explain when said person opens the door and takes his hand, sprinting towards his.

Shuichi was for the most part flabbergasted when Kaito pulled him out his door and forced him in a full-on sprint to his house without as much as an explanation—he was a little annoyed as well, considering he was just getting into an in-depth discussion with his uncle on the new season of ‘ _Danganronpa – True Crimes Unlimited’_.

As soon as Kaito ushers him inside his room, Shuichi slumps down on Kaito’s beanbag and props his feet up on his bed.

“30 minutes, tops.” He says, holding up his finger. Kaito nods obediently, plopping down on his bed. Gone were the days where he was able to dangle his feet off the sides—no matter how far he went, his legs never seemed to end.

“Okay, so, crazy theory.” Kaito starts. Shuichi internally facepalms—he already knew where this was going to go, but nods along like a good friend, pretending to look intrigued.

“You know how Kokichi’s disappeared off the face of Earth for the past few days?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s just on his bed having his first—”

“Well, anyways…” Kaito says, silencing Shuichi with a glower, “I’ve come to visit him every day, right? And his mom always answers the door, dish cloth over her shoulder with the _same_ smell of cookies wafting out of from behind her.” He continues.

Shuichi nods. Kaito clears his throat.

“I have come to the realisation that…” Kaito jumps up in his bed and stabs an imaginary flagpole into his duvet with his other hand planted on his hip, “His mother is keeping him locked in the house and forcing him to make cookies!”

Shuichi facepalms. Kaito sees it this time.

“What?” He asks, confidence crumbling. He had practised this ever since he grabbed Shuichi from his house, imagining confetti cannons to shoot up from his bedroom floor and Shuichi proudly exclaiming his detective skills inferior to his upon his boisterous announcement. Now, as Shuichi stares at him with pitiful eyes, Kaito sees nothing but sad, dead streamers lying on his bedroom floor.

“Kaito…” Shuichi says, “Have you been paying attention in Health class?”

“Pfft, of course!” Shuichi’s chin drops and his eyes begin to pry into his soul as a shadow casts over half of his face, making him look like some sort of evil interrogator. Kaito deflates as he jumps back down on his bed, blankets billowing around him in waves. “I haven’t been paying attention, sue me! What does that have to do with this?”

“Well…” Shuichi’s lips wobble. He doesn’t know how to bring up this sensitive subject to an alpha. “…Have you heard of a ‘heat’?”

Kaito’s head pops up from his duvet sprinkled with stars. “Heats? Yeah, I heard of those. Omegas have them, right?”

Shuichi nods. Their conversation runs stagnant. Kaito looks out of his window and pictures the stars that would coat the sky later on during the night, waiting for Shuichi to say something.

_The little dipper would be there. Venus would hang in the middle like a miniature sun. Mars should be visible soon—_

There’s a bounce on his bed, interrupting his impromptu forecast of the stars. He looks back, finding Shuichi who was looking over his shoulder.

“Connect the stars, Kaito.” He says, nodding towards the sky. “Kokichi. Omega. Heat.” He lifts a finger, drawing a triangle in the air.

Cogs turn in his head. As if Shuichi drawing an imaginary triangle in the air with his finger was some sort of spell, they all click together, snapping in place as signals travel to his brain to deliver the news. 

_Kokichi. Omega. Heat._ Oh.

Kaito stares at Shuichi, eyes wide and jaw slacked, hand gripping onto the windowsill like it was a lifeline. Shuichi holds back a laugh.

“Kokichi… Heat?”

“Yes.”

“Then…” Kaito looks down at his duvet, “We have to help him!” He bolts upright from his bed, heroically pointing a finger at his door. Shuichi follows after him, hastily putting a hand on his shoulder to hold him back.

“Kaito, no!” He says firmly, “We can’t, it’s not safe for us to be near Kokichi when he’s in heat.”

“Why not?” Kaito grumbles, shoving Shuichi’s hand off of him, “He’s in heat—my grandma said alphas have to help omegas out when they’re in heat!”

“We… We can help him out when he’s medicating. Right now, he has his mom, okay?” Shuichi says, trying to lull Kaito’s inner alpha to sleep.

“But… isn’t he hurt?” Kaito tries to reason.

“His mom is taking care of him right now, Kaito.” Shuichi replies, “Look, why don’t we just hang and play video games?” He says, gesturing towards Kaito’s gaming console.

There’s a sliver of doubt left in Kaito, a voice urging him to compete with Shuichi in some sort of rebuttal showdown. He’d have his imaginary swords while Shuichi would have his as they duelled by throwing words at each other, waiting for the other to crack.

He was about to deny Shuichi’s request and challenge him to said duel, until his grandmother’s voice rings inside his head— _No need to help him out, Kaito. His parents will do that for you._

“Fine.” He says behind gritted teeth, rolling off his bed and landing on the floor on all-fours, crawling towards his console to turn it on.

Kaito fumbles with the buttons for a few minutes, cursing at the ‘ _lousy piece of junk_ ’ for not turning on before realizing that the HDMI chord wasn’t plugged in. Shuichi releases a huge sigh of relief, internally patting himself on the back. 

He would’ve been happier if Kaito pulled him away to discuss Kokichi’s disappearance on a day where the new season of _Danganronpa – True Crimes Unlimited_ wasn’t premiering, but he’ll just will his annoyance away with pride and pray to his 0dd classmate Angie’s god (Atua was his name, apparently) for his uncle to leave it recording.

….

Kokichi returns to school the following week, his bag audibly rattling when he runs towards Kaito and gives him a big hug. Kaito returns it reluctantly, like touching him too hard would hurt him—Kokichi’s annoying antics made him borderline homicidal at times, but omegas were fragile and Kokichi having just come back from his heat (Kaito’s stomach oddly churns at the thought) made him extra cautious.

Kokichi’s hawk eyes seem to have caught on to Kaito’s wariness since he gives him a smirk—still as pinchable as it was a few weeks ago when he’d last seen it—and nudges him on the ribs with his shoulder.

“Silly Momota-chan!” He says, “I didn’t get out of surgery or anything! I just had my heat.”

“I-I know that!” Kaito bites back, squaring his shoulders to save face after stumbling on his words, “It’s just… I don’t know… I’m a little… Worried that I might hurt you.” His cheeks heat up. He wants to hide himself in a box and have Shuichi or Kaede to tape it shut so he’d be able to fully shut himself out from the world and Kokichi’s incoming torrential downpour of insults. 

But all Kokichi does is make a face, eyebrows drooping while making a point to squish his lips together in a little pout.

“You don’t have to worry about it so much!” Kokichi grumbles, “And plus…” He trails off, momentarily stopping to fish something out of his bag, “I have medicine now!”

Kaito’s eyes light up and he feels his lips quirk up in a genuine smile. “Oh, sweet!” He says, not too sure of what Kokichi’s medicine will actually do besides stopping the pain that comes from heats. 

“I’m so thankful Momota-chan cares so much about me!” Kokichi gushes dreamily, reaching up to poke Kaito on the cheek. Kaito rolls his eyes but refrains from swatting his finger away and keeps his eyes trained on the floor. He notices the creases lining the toe cap of Kokichi’s shoes. _He’s still as short as ever._

“Momota-san.” A voice greets from behind them. Kaito turns back, finding Maki—the cute girl with pigtails that looks even cuter close up—staring up at him. Bright red burns into his skull like a laser, leaving nothing but a pile of pink mush in its wake. He doesn’t know whether to run away, bury himself 10 feet underground or climb up a nearby tree to avoid getting stared at.

“Hmm?” Kokichi pipes in, bringing Kaito out of his Maki-induced trance, “Why if it isn’t Harukawa-chan!” He cheers. Kaito looks down to find Kokichi peeking his head out from his back.

“Ouma-san.” She nods, her voice dark and pupils glowing a menacing shade of red.

“Why does Harukawa-chan hate me so much?” Kokichi pouts, unaffected by the look of murder thrown his way.

Maki scoffs and looks away. Kaito clears his throat, shoving Kokichi so that he’d be fully covered by his back.

“So, Harukawa-san.” He starts, “Uh.” He finishes. He feels small under her intense gaze, even if she was only a little taller than Kokichi.

“Um…” She starts, hands unconsciously coming up to tug at her pigtail. She puffs her cheeks out and stares at the floor. Kaito scratches the back of his head, trying to turn his brain on.

A shrill ‘aww’ breaks the awkward tension building up between them. They both jump and turn their heads towards Kokichi, who had his hands on his cheeks, mouth open in faux surprise.

“Does Kaito have a _cwush_?” He coos. Kaito only has time to give him a half-snare before noticing the _tiniest_ wobble in his lips. His teasing face was the same, but the wobble in his lips made his pinchable smirk a lot less pinchable. Kaito wanta to lean down to straighten it up so it could go back to making him want to pinch Kokichi.

From behind him, he hears Maki scoff. The soft click of her heels as she leaves resonates through the stone floor and sends vibrations that ripple through him like an unspoken rejection.

“What the hell, Kokichi?” He snaps, flailing his arms around the tiny omega. “You made things all awkward!”

“Nishishi~” Kokichi grins, “I knew you had a crush on her! Don’t lie to me. You’re a bad liar and I can see through all of your attempts at deception!”

“I don’t have a crush on her, I just think she’s cute, okay?”

Kaito thinks he might’ve said that a little too loudly since he sees Kokichi—even if it was just for a moment or two—faulter, his features drooping. He puts up his smirk again though, quickly enough so that Kaito didn’t have enough time to bring it up. It wobbled a bit more now, creeping up on both corners of his lips.

“Cute is codeword for ‘future wife’ Kaito.” Kokichi says behind a hand, tiny frame shaking with mirth. Kaito wants to shake him, or maybe pinch him all over. It’s agonizing knowing that this whole ‘Kaito has a crush on Maki’ thing will be Kokichi’s preferred choice of subject whenever he decides to take a jab at him for _at least_ a few weeks. Or months. Maybe even for the rest of the year, if he’s super unlucky.

….

Whenever Kokichi isn’t bringing up Maki with Kaito firing back with the silencing ‘I’m not buying you any more Panta’ threat, they lounge around Kaito’s backyard t0 soak in the summer heat. Kokichi prefers to sit out on the patio while Kaito fully takes in the sun on the grass. Interactions between them in this predicament would involve shouting at each other due to their distance—passive or aggressive, it was really interchangeable—and Kaito chasing Kokichi around the house if things got too heated.

Kokichi sits with his legs crossed on the hanging hammock Kaito’s grandparents got a few light years ago, observing the alpha with a mischievous grin. His best friend was busying away with an empty Panta bottle, trying to cut it in half. Even with his back turned on Kokichi, he can see his furrowed eyebrows and gritted teeth. 

“You might want to use _actual_ scissors, Momota-chan.” He calls out to him, “I don’t think my old kitchen playset ones aren’t strong enough to cutting open actual things, let alone hard plastic.”

“Shut up.” Kaito says over his shoulder, “I couldn’t find any actual scissors, they always go missing!”

“Don’t break them, Momota-chan! We still have to make soup for your dad tonight.”

Kaito turns to face him. Kokichi shrinks in his seat, hugging his knees up to his chest. _Was that a bad thing to say?_ Kokichi didn’t mean it as a jab.

“Well course’ not.” Kaito grumbles, narrowing his eyes at him. “That’s why I was building a damn rocket ship in the first place.”

“So Momota-chan swears now?” Kokichi says, relieved that his words didn’t make Kaito sad.

“It’s not a swear word!”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“You’re annoying.”

They go on like that for a few more minutes, exchanging half-baked insults that had a little too much sugar in them before Kokichi relents and jumps out of his shaded haven to help Kaito out with his rocket ship, taking out the pair of lost scissors in his pocket and waving it in front of Kaito’s face. A chase around the backyard occurs shortly after that, with Kaito’s yells and Kokichi’s snarky laughs filling the lull of the quiet neighbourhood.

The crickets chirp when Kaito finally finishes assembling the rocket ship. It was simple, with cardboard wings jutting out from all three corners, adorned with a rim of purple that lined the circular hole that Kaito cut out in the middle.

The two bid his grandparents farewell as they start their retreat to their secret hideaway. Kokichi carries a picnic basket while he has a blanket draped over his shoulders, cupping his hands behind his head as he whistles a tune. They’re accompanied by nothing but the crickets singing their songs and flowers swaying with the warm, summer breeze.

When they make it to the creek and settle down, Kaito tilts his head up to look at the night sky, finding a star in the middle outshining the rest.

“It’s the same star.” Kokichi breathes out, “I can’t believe it’s the same star.”

“You sound shocked.”

“I’m not. Just a little surprised.”

Kokichi takes out the contents inside the basket one by one—a paper boat. A few glittery stars. A container filled with _soup._ And two plastic spoons.

“We should really stop making this soup, Kokichi.” He grimaces, “It’s really just Panta with fake plastic vegetables.”

“And? Your dad loved it.”

“I’m pretty sure he just faked it so he wouldn’t make you sad.”

“He finished every single bowl I gave him.”

“With a straw, after taking out the vegetables and putting them in the sink.”

“Still loved it!”

Kaito shakes his head, his smile betraying his dismay. He takes a serving nonetheless and eats it with his spoon.

“So, are you gonna tell me why we’re doing this now? His anniversary’s two weeks away.”

“Well…” Kokichi says, gaze fixed on the _soup_ sloshing around in his bowl, “I wanted to try something different. You know, see if it felt the same doing it on a day different from your dad’s anniversary?”

Kaito could tell Kokichi was lying. This raises alarms in his brain, since he can only differentiate Kokichi’s lies from his truths whenever he was sad or not trying, which were both reasons of concern.

“You sure that’s the only reason?”

“Yup!” Kokichi says. It comes out more like a squeak, really. Kaito narrows his eyes. Slats of light that seep through the leaves hanging above them illuminate Kokichi’s face. From afar, Kaito could see how sad he looks. A sharp pang in his chest urges him to scoot closer.

When he gets close enough, Kaito gathers Kokichi in his arms. Kokichi struggles in his hold for a little bit, but eventually fists the fabric of Kaito’s shirt with his two hands and relaxes, awkwardly resting his head against his chest.

It’s weird. Kokichi almost always initiates their hugs. But nonetheless, Kokichi turns his head and smiles into Kaito’s shirt—freshly washed, thank god—since he thinks, or _knows_ , why Kaito did what he did.

“Why are you lying?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you know?”

“Because I know that I know why but I don’t want to know why.”

“That’s a lie within itself then, saying that you don’t know.”

“Maybe it is.” Kokichi’s words are muffled since his face is pressed up against Kaito’s chest. It feels broader now. It’d probably be firm to the touch, if Kokichi lifted his finger to poke it.

“Can you spill the beans now?”

“Nishishi~” Kokichi chuckles, although it wobbles like a wooden beam balancing on a jagged rock. “Does Momota-chan want to know _that_ bad?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Really?”

“Most definitely.”

“Well…” Kokichi pulls away from Kaito’s chest, “I guess telling you wouldn’t hurt.”

Kaito’s lips quirk up into a smile. It’s times like these where he finds his best friend at his most endearing. Kokichi looking so vulnerable pulled at his heart, but in a good way—a way that made his stomach flutter by the pluck of his heartstrings.

“Now don’t get sad when I tell you Momota-chan!” Kokichi winks. Kaito’s smile drops by an inch. Kokichi holds back a snicker.

“On Monday, which is after Sunday, which is tomorrow because the day we’re in right now is Saturday…”

“Kokichi!”

“Okay, fine!” Kokichi grumbles, “On Monday, I’m going away to my dad’s place for the rest of the year.”

Kaito’s face falls.

“Your dad? But… Why?”

“Because.” Kokichi says, “He wants to see me, apparently.”

“Your mom…”

“She agreed to it, since she’s the one who gets to see all the time thanks to their agreement.”

Kokichi’s mom and dad hated each other’s guts. Kaito never knew why—marriages were supposed to be a union, were they not? The only explanation Kaito got from Kokichi was that both of them were bad liars when they tried to out-lie each other in a game that apparently gambled their marriage away.

“You’re gonna be gone for the _rest of the year_?” Kaito says, voice wilting like a flower.

Kokichi of course notices this as he sighs and reaches up to pat Kaito on the head, his hair a bed of jagged spikes that reach up to the stars.

“Don’t be so sad, Momota-chan!” Kokichi says, “I’m gonna be back in a pinch, don’t worry!”

The tips of Kaito’s spikes droop. Kokichi feels the atmosphere getting duller by each light second. He scans their surroundings, eyes catching the object they were here for in the first place.

“Momota-chan.” Kokichi starts in a hushed tone. When Kaito doesn’t respond, Kokichi momentarily wriggles himself out of his hold and grabs the paper boat and homemade rocket ship, holding the two up.

“Momota-chan!” He says with a little more force, “Did we forget what we came here for?” He asks, voice laced with sarcasm as he cocks his head to the side.

The faintest smile creeps its way onto Kaito’s lips. When Kokichi detects it, he smiles too, knowing Kaito will be okay.

When the moon shines on the narrow stream that flows beside them in hushed tones, it mirrors the night sky, creating a beautiful canvas dotted with trembling lights.

A paper boat sails to the beat of the river’s waves. A rocket ship rocks gently beside it. Inside both of them, stars tucked away under paper folds and inside plastic still gleam, illuminated by the shine of two boy’s hearts.

They’ll travel far, but Kaito and Kokichi never really know where they end up. Kokichi likes to imagine that they travel as far as a shipwreck past the sea. Kaito knows—or rather _hopes_ , that a lone spaceman in the sky takes them before they sail that far away.

….

Kaito would’ve been way more ecstatic for the first Monday of summer if Kokichi wasn’t outside of his dad’s minivan. But there he was, outside of said minivan, looking tiny in front of it.

He helps Kokichi haul a bag in the backseat. A man is standing beside him with something inconspicuously placed behind his back. His glasses were ominously perched on the bridge of his pointy nose. He shudders when he smells the strong scent of wood—his nose has been acting up lately. Grandma said it was normal, but he wasn’t convinced.

“Momota-chan is so strong!”

“You’d be able to carry this as well.” Kaito grumbles, “You’re just lazy.”

“Was that meant to be some sort of back-handed compliment?”

Kaito doesn’t understand, so he just shrugs. It’s better halting their friendship on a good note with Kokichi leaving him sad without any irritated fingers desperate to pinch something.

“Are you all good to go?” The man says. Kokichi nods, ordering him to go wait in the van.

“Some dad, right?” Kokichi says, “He had to go get one of his fancy guards to come get me.”

Kaito doesn’t fail to notice how the usual bubbliness in Kokichi’s voice has popped. It’s a little gruffy like the times when Kokichi would try and sound like some grungy mafia lord but would just end up making Kaito want to awkwardly pet him on the head rather than cower in fear, but there’s a faint wobble on its edges. Kaito can see a kaleidoscope of emotions in Kokichi and he doesn’t want to send him off like this but there’s no time to do anything and he hates that he doesn’t have time to do anything—

_A pinch._

Kokichi slaps Kaito’s hand away from his cheek, face scrunching up in irritation.

“What was that for?”

“You said you’d be back ‘ _in a pinch_ ’, Kokichi.” Kaito says, “You _lied to me_.”

Kokichi stays mad for a few seconds before smiling. It’s two parts pinchable and six parts genuine, with a little fuzziness sprinkled in.

“Would it soften the blow to call that a parting gift?”

“Not really.”

“C’mere, you big baby!” He drags Kaito down for a hug. Creases still line the toe cap of Kokichi’s shoes. Kaito doesn’t know why this makes him feel relieved.

“I guess you can say I’ll be back in _two_ pinches.”

Top-heavy, Kaito’s head falls to the side. “Two pinches?”

Kokichi laughs a laugh that crinkles his eyes. Kaito doesn’t like it, since it stops him from seeing the purple on his pupils.

“Don’t grow up on me too much, Momota-chan.”

“You’ll only be gone for a few months. Try and grow a little while you’re away, ‘kay?”

“While I do that, you do the exact opposite.”

The man gets out of the car, announcing the urgency of Kokichi’s inevitable exit and ushers him inside. The slam of the door rings in his ears like a death knell. Kokichi wasn’t dying. He wasn’t dying either. He’s just overreacting.

The car starts to drive forward. Kaito wants to cry.

Kokichi of course pokes his head out of the open window. From this distance, Kaito wonders if he can see him clearly.

Kokichi holds up two fingers, before dropping his hand to pinch his cheek.

It might’ve just been a peace sign turned into some blatant attempt at being cute, but Kaito sees through cracked glass, finding some sort of hidden meaning in one of the many unspoken actions Kokichi does that hold a thousand words behind them.

This one in particular only has six. Kaito’s response is half of that, which is weird since Kokichi is half his size.

 _‘I’ll be waiting_.’ He whispers to himself, before pinching his own cheek. 


	2. purple prose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'sometimes i overdo it; sometimes my prose is a little bit too purple, and i know that.'  
> \- H.G. Bissinger 
> 
> kudos would be appreciated,, keeps me very motivated! enjoy loves hehe

Kaito spends his 14th birthday Kokichi-less.

It’s messy. Shuichi, Kaede and his other friends fill in the gaps that Kokichi’s exit created, but they all overfill and seep through cracks, brimming with too much sugar. There’s no pinchable smirks, irritating sneers or rivers of fizzy Panta.

The outline of Kokichi was too jagged and elaborate for anyone _other_ than him to fill in correctly. He appreciates his friends, but he’s too much of a word that starts with _‘M’_ and ends with ‘ _T_ ’ to not mope about someone who’s as malevolent as his best friend.

Kaito stuffs wrapping paper into a trash bag. _What was that word again?_

“Do you think Kokichi’s gotten taller?” Kaito asks Ms. Ouma. Kokichi’s mom was helping him and his grandparents clear out the mess his party left in its wake, stashing away leftovers and picking up streamers.

“I don’t think he has.” Ms. Ouma says. “I don’t want him too, at least. He’s better suited being tiny, anyway.”

Kaito likes Ms. Ouma’s voice. She speaks in dulcet tones that cover his house in a gentle hush and says words that massage his brain once they dance out of her mouth.

“Enough about that little rascal, he’s coming back in a week anyway.” She chuckles, setting aside the dish cloth she was using to dry dishes to crouch down next to Kaito, helping him pick up scraps from the floor.

“How’s your astronaut training going, Kaito?”

Kaito brightens at the mention of ‘astronaut training’ and jumps up, chest raised with his hands and legs stuck together. This was a position he’d been perfecting for the last few weeks, after realizing the amount of discipline astronauts needed if they were to venture out into the stars.

“Astronaut Kaito reporting a good training re…” He bites his tongue but swallows the pain, “…Regime which is both gruelling and satisfying!” He adds a little salute when he finishes, the burning on his tongue dulled by a cool swell of pride.

Ms. Ouma laughs, standing up and patting him on the shoulder.

“You’ll be the first astronaut-soldier-weatherman in Japan, Kaito-chan.” She pinches him on the cheek. A feeling of home blooms inside Kaito. He has to force himself to not lean into her touch.

Ms. Ouma was a lot like Kokichi, tiny stature and all. But there are differences—like her eyes and hair being a lighter shade of purple, the higher-pitched voice and wrinkles forming on her skin. There was also her talent of being able to calm Kaito down whenever he was mad—whether or not it was Kokichi who evoked those emotions out of him didn’t matter—and she always seemed to know what to do to make him feel better.

“Oh!” She says, bringing Kaito back down to Earth. “Before I forget…” She trails off, fishing for something in her pocket. She takes out a small, purple square and hands it to Kaito. 

“What is this?” Kaito asks. He drops his head down to inspect it, feeling along its surface for some sort of clue. After careful analysis, he concludes that the square was made out of coloured paper.

“Kokichi’s present for you.” Ms. Ouma answers, hands joining behind her back.

“Oh.” Kaito says, a little bummed that Kokichi didn’t send him something more extravagant.

He’s against complaining—his grandparents told him that big boys should always be thankful for birthday gifts, no matter how big or small they are—and decides to unfold it, hoping to find a small knick-knack he can use for something. He pouts when he discovers another square. A slip of paper balances precariously on the edge of the unfurled square. Kaito lets it drop to the floor.

“You look disappointed.” Ms. Ouma says.

Kaito doesn’t refute her remark because he _is_ what she’s claiming him to be—he gave Kokichi a whole bag of gifts last year for his birthday, confident that each item he picked out would be something his best friend would love. Low and behold, Kokichi ended up giving him a giant hug and doing multiple celebratory laps around his living room.

That memory served as a good way of keeping Kokichi wedged somewhere inside his brain. He isn’t so sure now if the $30 he bid farewell to was put to good use though. Maybe imagining an alternate universe where he tripped Kokichi over while he was running would make him feel better.

It doesn’t. Kokichi would just throw a tantrum and cry until Kaito apologizes and buys him Panta in compensation.

Somewhere between moping and alternate universes, Kaito can hear Ms. Ouma sigh. His vision warps as he gets turned around and led to the couch, which he walks to with heavy steps.

“Kaito-chan.” Ms. Ouma starts as she takes a seat next to him, “Do you not like Kokichi’s present?”

“I do.”

“Why is it scrunched up in your hand then?”

Kaito looks down to find that his hand had unconsciously gone into a fist, taking the paper squares with it. He wants to scold it. Maybe even give it a few pinches on the side to make it feel worse.

“Kaito-chan.” Ms. Ouma says with a softer tone that makes Kaito calm down, “You do know Kokichi’s giving you his _cool_ present when he comes back, right? It’s all he talks about when we videocall.”

“He is?” Kaito asks, not sure if Ms. Ouma was telling the truth. Ms. Ouma nods with a force that makes her bun wobble.

“Then why hasn’t he told me yet?”

Ms. Ouma smiles mischievously and puts a finger to her lips, “Sometimes Kokichi lies for the fun of it. But this time, I think he was putting this off from you for a good reason.”

“And besides…” Ms. Ouma takes Kaito’s hand and places a small, paper slip on his palm, “It’s the little things in life, Kaito-chan. The _tiniest_ things in life might just end up giving you the most joy.” 

Kaito sometimes forgets how Ms. Ouma can twist her words to make them more poetic and whimsical. He imagines her taking stardust from the night sky and sprinkling it onto her words to make them shiny. 

“You should be a writer, Ms. Ouma.” Kaito says.

“Oh.” Ms. Ouma replies, a little flustered. “I don’t think we should be talking about my potential career choices here, Kaito-chan.”

“See, you just did it again.”

“Did what?”

“You made your words shiny. It’s cool.”

Ms. Ouma tilts her head to the side in subtle shock, making a mental note to _maybe_ tone down the adult talk when she’s conversing with a 14-year-old.

“Shiny words don’t always make things ‘ _cool_ ’, Kaito-chan.” Ms. Ouma says, pinching Kaito on the cheek, “Sometimes shiny things can be annoying to look at, since they give you a glare that hurts your eyes.”

“But you can’t look at shiny words.” 

“Not look, but you can hear them. Purple prose!”

“What’s ‘ _purple prose?_ ’” Kaito asks, suddenly intrigued. There’s ‘ _purple_ ’ which reminds him of Kokichi, and ‘ _prose_ ’ which sounds a lot like _‘pro_ ’ which was the first part of his future career as a ‘Pro-fessional Astronaut’.

There shouldn’t have been an impromptu writing lesson given to Kaito on his birthday, but there was. Underneath the orange glow of the ceiling fan light, Kaito is given an explanation on what purple prose is. Between stray pieces of wrapping paper and cold, dead streamers, Kaito eagerly listens to Ms. Ouma prattle on about the different styles of writing.

There’s a glint in her eyes when she shoos Kaito away to fetch some paper and pens, a flicker of warm lights that the young alpha catches a glimpse of as he stands up.

It melts off the lilac rim of her pupil and crackles and groans, piercing her eyes with violent strings of red and orange that wave like the inflatable tube man outside the local department store.

Kaito finally realizes the word he was looking for when he goes to grab the pen off his desk.

 _Fire_. Ms. Ouma had fire in her eyes.

-☀-

From: > kokichi <

Subject: _birthday gift_ _＼_ _(_ _≧▽≦_ _)_ _／_

_MOMOTA-CHAN!!! did you like the gift i gave you?_

Kaito stares at the paper slip. Its crumpled edges mock him.

‘ _Open the square when you feel like you’re losing fuel’_

Kaito repeats the sentence in his head like a mantra, trying to find some sort of meaning hiding behind the layer of deceivingly pretty purple ink that twinkled under the rays of his desk lamp. He sees its glossy coating leer at him from the table.

Kokichi’s definitely transferred some of his consciousness into each letter. His spirit wedges itself in between specks of glitter and sinks into the thick lake of purple, out of reach for Kaito to pinch. 

“Damn it, Kokichi!” Kaito says behind gritted teeth. He almost slams his fist on the table but stops and lets his curled knuckles hang in mid-air, like a meteor frozen in spacetime. “What are you trying to say?”

He brings his fist down, blanched knuckles to bouncing thigh. Kokichi’s message still remained opened on his phone next to him, all shiny and stupid under the screen it hides under.

To: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _birthday gift_ _＼_ _(_ _≧▽≦_ _)_ _／_

_why did you have to give me such a confusing gift i dont get this at all_

Kaito hastily presses backspace, watching the letters disappear one by one before they eventually start pixelating out of existence in bulk. He had mulled over the different universes that would split off from this one if he did or didn’t press send—an alternate universe where he can hear Kokichi laughing at him from a few hundred miles away made him even more disgruntled.

To: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _birthday gift_ _＼_ _(_ _≧▽≦_ _)_ _／_

_its nice thank you for giving me this_

From: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _birthday gift_ _＼_ _(_ _≧▽≦_ _)_ _／_

_so when are you gonna use it?_

To: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _birthday gift_ _＼_ _(_ _≧▽≦_ _)_ _／_

_im gonna use it whenever i want to use it_

From: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _birthday gift_ _＼_ _(_ _≧▽≦_ _)_ _／_

_what an alpha_

To: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _birthday gift_ _＼_ _(_ _≧▽≦_ _)_ _／_

_shut up_

Kaito chucks his phone over his shoulder, half expecting it to land on his bed.

The universe splits into two. He hears a loud thud behind him. His grandma’s muffled shouts to keep the noise down fall on stressed ears, the other half of her loud complaints drifting off to an alternate universe which would’ve probably involved Kaito not putting his dishes in the dishwasher. 

“Kaito! Come here and put your dishes in the dishwasher now!”

Kaito’s groans. Sometimes universes connect.

-☀-

From: > kokichi <

Subject: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_the wheels on the bus go round and round_

To: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_what_

From: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_THE WHEELS ON THE BUS GO ROUND AND ROUND_

To: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_you’re not gonna make me finish the sentence_

From: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_it’s only SIX words you have to type out momota-chan are you serious_

From: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_please you wouldn’t even do it for me?_

To: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_no_

From: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_when i come back today you’re gonna regret ever rejecting me my present for you is hands down the best this year_

Kaito thinks about the slip that’s been lying on his desk for the past week, then forces his brain to unthink. The slip blows raspberries at him as he passes it on his way to the kitchen without so much as a grunt of acknowledgement.

From: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_you’re so cruel treating me like this i hate you_

To: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_hate is a strong word kokichi_

From: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_what would you know about words you tanked every single writing assignment we had last year_

To: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_shut up so im not that good with words and crap big deal_

To: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_plus your mom gave me a writing lesson for my birthday and she’s actually really smart and considerate unlike you_

Kaito doesn’t get a response from Kokichi until after he finishes two bowls of his special brand cereal, a big box of flakes jampacked with nutrition that he gets his grandma to buy every time she goes grocery shopping— _perfect for astronauts in training_ , said a certain website. After that its integration into Kaito’s diet became second nature.

From: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_meet at the creek tonight?_

To: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_i’ll be there_

From: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_oh and momota-chan?_

From: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_i guessed i’ve missed you a little_

To: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_how little?_

From: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_a pinch or two i guess_

To: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_now who’s the one being crool_

From: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_you spelt cruel wrong you dumb astronaut_

-☀-

Kaito walks to the creek at a time where the sun teeters along the bottom of the sky, involved in a galactic battle with the moon as its pointy edges stab at the sun’s surface, pushing it down the horizon.

Above him, the man nestled against the curve of the moon fishes for stars, accidentally hurtling his bait into fluffy beds of white, breaking clouds into tufted streaks and sweeping them across the sky when he reels in his catch of the day. 

The spring heat waxes and wanes in short bursts, but this evening is particularly hot. Kaito wonders if Kokichi’s gotten tanner. Finding a nice splotch of colour against his pale skin would beat out the discovery of Planet Nine in terms of excitement.

“Momota-san.”

Kaito jumps rather unceremoniously, almost knocking into a flower bush. What good would it be if a bunch of beautiful roses got squashed underneath his weight, a lifespan full of pollination and beauty cut short by the backside of a gangly 14-year-old?

For this reason and this reason alone, Kaito bears the pain slithering up his spine. The untouched rose bushes next to him rustle in thanks. Above him, a cloud of citrus makes its way to his nose. The smell makes his stomach tumble like clothes in a dryer.

“Um… Are you okay?”

Kaito looks up to find Maki—the cute girl with pigtails—peering down at him, curiosity lighting up the maroon in her eyes.

 _Was it that or worry?_ Maki extends a hand. Kaito takes it, smelling the peppery scent of ginger. Kaito’s not too fond of ginger, but he does his best to hold back a grimace.

Despite his best efforts, Maki’s cheeks bloom red in embarrassment and she swiftly goes to wipe her hand down her pyjama pants, sharp stroke after sharp stroke until the ginger dissipates from her palm completely.

“Sorry, I just had spring rolls.” She says meekly.

“No, no!” Kaito says. Bricks pile on top of the pit of his stomach. “You don’t have to say sorry, trust.”

Maki breaks them apart with a faint smile. She stretches her other palm out, showing a key chain in the shape of a rocket floating languidly over the sea of milk.

“I got you something during my vacation,” Maki says, the toe of her slippers scuffing against the cement. “I hope you had a good birthday. Sorry I couldn’t make it.”

“T—that’s…” Kaito starts, already stuttering on his words. “That’s really good!”

“What?”

Kaito takes the keychain from Maki to save her from standing in such an awkward position. It fires away from the milky sea and finds refuge in his hand.

“It’s really nice.” Kaito clarifies. He sheepishly scratches the back of his head, trying to turn on his brain.

“I’m glad you liked it.” Maki’s hands come up to tug at one of her pigtails. “I’ll see you at school.”

“Thank you! See you at school…” The wrong parts of his brain wake up. “…Maki roll.”

“What?”

“F-forget I said that!” Kaito flails his hands around, embarrassed. “It just came up in my head, sorry. Since you were eating spring rolls and your first name is Maki and—”

“You can keep calling me that.” Maki cuts him off from his excessive apologizing. More hair bunches around her tight grip. “It’s okay. It’s kind of funny.”

“Oh.”

“Well…” Maki— _Maki roll—_ says, “Bye. Happy birthday again.” She turns, leaving Kaito behind to wallow in his own confusion and _slight_ mortification.

“Y-yeah!” Kaito says at Maki’s retreating back, “See you later, Maki roll!” He waves at nothing.

-☀-

Maki and spring rolls linger in Kaito’s mind for the rest of his walk, but clear out like the tenacious branches he pushes aside as he gets closer to his final destination.

The moon, proud at its recent victory over the sun, now hangs above him, a grandiose show of light filtering through the leaves of the trees surrounding him.

When Kaito makes it to the creek, an outline of a back sitting beside the river greets him. The outline leans on a box, head tilted towards its top. Tufts of purple poke out from the outlines’ head like vines, curving in the middle and wilting at its edges.

Kaito tip toes towards the outline, excitement creeping up on him. His plan is simple—he’ll scare the outline, but catch it if it veers too far towards the rushing water hungrily awaiting its next victim.

A branch snaps under his foot. Kaito mumbles an angry ‘ _damn it_ ’ under his breath, fully expecting a chorus of laughs to surround and suffocate him in its hold, pinching him until it stirs every ounce of irritation awake behind his forehead. 

But the outline doesn’t move. Kaito abandons his reckless plan and runs towards it. 

There he sees Kokichi Ouma sleeping soundly. Here the river looks much more reserved, less bounce in its waves and more emphasis on its melodic drone that cloaks its surroundings in tranquillity.

Kaito almost doesn’t want to wake him up. Seeing Kokichi for the first time in months close up with his expression soft and body rising up and down to the rhythm of his quiet snores made him feel fuzzy.

Kaito decides to anyway since him sleeping outside is dangerous and his eyes weren’t open, which left the greatest part of Kokichi—not that Kaito would ever admit it—invisible.

“Kokichi.” Kaito whispers. It sounds weird saying his name and having him actually be there.

“Kokichi,” He continues, placing a hand on the sleeping boy’s shoulder, shaking it slightly. Bone presses against his palm, jabbing skin like the stubborn corner of a counter.

Kokichi stirs before the thought expands and eats him up like a black hole. Kokichi was always so skinny, living on a diet of Panta and an assortment of sweets—rarely did he ever consume something as ambitious as a big bowl of cereal.

Kokichi’s head rises and his eyes flutter open, flickers of purple flashing in front of Kaito as he readjusts his position, sleep still clouding his mind.

He yawns a yawn that’s super theatrical, with his arms stretched towards the sky and mouth forming a capital ‘O’ when he intakes huge masses of air. And then his body slumps and his eyes look up to meet Kaito’s, two circles of glowing amethysts filled to the brim with unexplored galaxies.

“Nice of you to show up.” Is what Kokichi first says to him. A smile creeps its way onto his lips, but it tires at the corners. It’s warm and cold like dry ice, freezing him in place while simultaneously melting him into a big pile of space-bound molecules and purple gloop.

“Hey! Momota-chan, hey!” Kokichi’s voice—his annoyingly exuberant one—brings Kaito back down to Earth.

Kokichi waves a hand in front of him and Kaito picks out all the intricate lines that run along his palm. They should look out of place and awkward, but they’re kind of nice—filaments painted in cream ploughing through tundras of snow.

“You aren’t dead, right? Cause this whole thing would be ruined if Momota-chan just turned up late _and_ dead when we were supposed to meet up!” 

“I’m not dead, Kokichi.” Kaito says.

“And he speaks!” Kokichi cheers.

“Why were you sleeping? It’s dangerous for you to sleep outside, you know.”

“The same reason you were late! I got bored waiting and decided to sleep.”

Kaito _did_ nap past his alarm, but just by a pinch. Coupled with the small run in he had with Maki and the distance between the creek and his house, there was no chance he would’ve made it in time.

“Okay, you got me.” Kaito relents, “Why didn’t you just come to my house when you got back?” 

“Because I knew you’d come,” Kokichi replies, “I trusted you, you see!” 

“Did you really?”

“Nishishi~” Kokichi chuckles. Kaito would’ve never thought he’d miss the sound, but here he is relishing in the dissonance that crawls into his ears, clear and authentic and not tuned out by static. “That’s up for you to decide, Momota-chan.”

Kaito chooses to believe Kokichi.

“What’s this?” He nudges his head towards the box.

“This, my dear Momota-chan, is your gift!” Kokichi says, rapping his knuckles against the cardboard surface. He jumps up and Kaito follows, not surprised when he has to turn his head down at an angle greater than Uranus’ tilt to see his best friend’s face.

“Are you looking down on me?”

“I kind of have to, you know.”

“It’s not my fault for having such stubby legs!” counters Kokichi, petulant like a child.

“Would it be better if I leaned?”

“Let’s test it.”

And Kaito leans, hands braced on his thighs. Kokichi examines and ponders with narrowed eyes before he shakes his head.

“No. This makes it even worse.” Kokichi sighs, “ _Don’t even think_ about getting me a step stool for my birthday.”

“ _Thank you_ for giving me the perfect gift idea.”

“You’re so cruel, Momota-chan!”

“And you’re annoying.”

“Is that our dynamic now? Me as the masochist and you as the sadist who _enjoys_ being mean to his best friend?”

Kaito shrugs. _Masochist—_ maybe that was the word he was looking for last week.

“Well I guess I won’t be giving you this box that totally has something you’ve been gushing over for the past couple of months then.”

“That’s a lie.”

“That’s up for you to decide, Momota-chan!”

This time, Kaito chooses not to believe him. Kokichi takes out a pair of scissors in his pocket in return and waves it in front of Kaito’s face.

The astronaut smiles and Kokichi smiles back, both falling back into a world where they’re Kokichi and Kaito and not Kokichi and Kaito via frequent online escapades.

They’re not best friend material. But somewhere in the fussing and bickering, crammed between all the contrasts their personalities have when they clash in heated debates on whether or not pineapple belonged on pizza—Kokichi wholeheartedly believes in them enhancing the taste and Kaito thinks he’s just siding with the enemy to be annoying—gossamer threads spiral them together to create a galaxy, a cluster of stars separated by vast clouds of majestic nebulae.

It’s messy, but it’s a good type of messy that Kaito can’t quite put a finger on. Like a mom picking up toys that her child left scattered on the floor, each one a reminder of the life she created and the life she’ll continue to care for until she takes her last breath.

“You’re insane.” Kaito says, grip on the box’s cardboard flaps tight and unmoving.

“But you love me.” Kokichi replies, bent arm leaning on Kaito’s slouched shoulder.

“Quit being a sap.” The red blooming on his cheeks betray him.

In the box was a create-your-own 3D Solar System model kit, buried underneath bundles of tissue paper and little cotton balls used to obscure it.

“How much was this?”

“When your dad is as rich as mine is, it doesn’t matter.” 

_‘Was your dad okay?’_ lodges itself in Kaito’s throat, but he swallows it down, remembering Kokichi’s endless complaints about him and the look of sadness he always had whenever they video called, hiding behind a layer of blurry pixels.

“How was the scenery?” He asks instead.

“It doesn’t get any more city folk up there, Momota-chan. Though they did sell Frozen Panta at fast food places, so that was a plus.”

Kaito turns to face him. “Thank you for this.”

“What did I tell you about kneeling?”

Kaito wants to stay kneeled and hunched over since he can see Kokichi better—all small and delicate. Even though he was gonna add Kokichi’s stunted height to his arsenal of insults, Kaito quite likes how pocket-sized his best friend is for some reason.

“You’re really just gonna stay kneeling like that?”

“Maybe.”

“Then maybe we should just both sit down!” Kokichi huffs, forcing Kaito down on the bed of grass. Kokichi grumbles when he follows, hugging his knees up to his chest.

“Omegas stay small.” Kaito states.

“You say that like you’ve been paying attention in ABO class.”

“What’s to say I haven’t?”

Kokichi shuffles to face him. The moonlight hits his back in a way that creates a halo around him. Kaito looks away before Kokichi can see him blush.

“I know you, Momota-chan.” says Kokichi, faux firmness in his voice, “And that isn’t a lie.”

“I know.”

“How was school?”

“Normal.” _A little more boring without you._

“So, you failing tests even with Saihara-chan giving you extra lessons before them?”

“Shut up.”

Kokichi laughs and Kaito relaxes into it like one of Kaede’s piano pieces.

“How was Christmas?”

“I miss the tree and I really liked the presents my grandparents gave me.” _Though I do wish you were there with your mom when everyone gathered for hot chocolate._ “How was yours?”

“How was New Years?”

Kaito answers and doesn’t ask in return. They go on like that for a while, bickers sprinkled in between whenever they accidentally find themselves delving to deep into small fissures that open up in their conversation. 

But then Kokichi asks about the writing lesson and it takes Kaito by surprise since he’s only been asking about holidays and traditions. “Huh?”

“The writing lesson,” repeats Kokichi, “Was it nice? Was it informative?”

“Oh.” Kaito says, “Yeah, yeah it was. Your mom sounded really into it.”

“That’s good. I’m glad.”

“She should be a writer.”

Kokichi stops picking at the grass. He scoops up the pile of leaves he unceremoniously plucked from their stems and balances it on his knee.

“I think she should too.” He lilts.

Purple prose— _text that is too flowery or ornate_.

“ _Using a whole paragraph to describe a bear is purple prose_.” Ms. Ouma had said, “ _Instead of lighting your writing piece up, taking too long to describe something dulls it since readers are bound to get bored. Flowery words sometimes have thorns in them too if used incorrectly, Kaito-chan.”_

Kaito could spend hours upon hours describing Kokichi. Would that be purple prose?

Would him leaving out all of Kokichi’s quirks do him injustice? Would him choosing to not include all of Kokichi’s likes and dislikes make him seem _boring_? Would him detailing Kokichi, with his jagged ends and complicated outline, be too flowery?

Kaito can’t summarize Kokichi, nor does he want to. Too many things to write about, like how much Panta he can drink in under five minutes or his absurd talent in lockpicking. He’d write them all in detail, making sure to leave no piece of information behind.

Because Kokichi is too elaborate. Four lines of description is like the Earth against the universe. Kokichi would be invisible, a tiny blue dot brimming with life, too unknown for any rocket ship flying by to notice or give a damn about. 

-☀-

To: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_the wheels on the bus go round and round btw_

From: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_you’re too sweet momota-chan_

From: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_oh and also i made sure to get a kit which included pluto_

To: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_why_

From: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_because pluto is cute i dont care what any simpleton nerd has to say about it being a ‘dwarf planet’_

To: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_maybe you should try and catch up with your holiday homework instead of worrying about stuff like that schools starting in two days_

From: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_nishishi maybe you’re right good night momota-chan <333_

To: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_didn’t i tell you to try and catch up with your holiday homework?_

Kaito pulls the cord of his lamp down, settling on his side with his phone propped up in his hand. In the corner of his room, the stars he collected from the night sky and placed inside the box during their walk back float on his walls in iridescent circles. In reality, it was really the cotton balls’ doing, taking the moonlight filtering through the gap of his curtains and bouncing it onto the beige canvas.

Kokichi called him stupid, that while Kaito was tall he wasn't tall enough to reach the sky, but smiled in spite of himself.

To: > kokichi <

Subject: Re: _wheels on the bus (_ _♡_ _ >_ _ω_ _< __♡_ _)_

_good night_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... um... maybe i lied when i said this was only gonna be a two-shot <33
> 
> (i only have like more ideas and im just gonna burp them out as i go) ALSO its not gonna be that long im pretty sure? just a few more chapters)


End file.
